


take my hand, wreck my plans

by jessicamiriamdrew



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:29:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28867035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessicamiriamdrew/pseuds/jessicamiriamdrew
Summary: Lee takes a deep breath standing in front of the kitchen sink. He fills a glass with water, unsteady hands trembling.He drinks half the glass, letting his brain calm enough for Lee to feel comfortable returning to the couch sized chasm between himself and Gaara.He slides his hand into Gaara’s own after a moment, apology and want and fear building into that one gesture.
Relationships: Gaara/Rock Lee
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	take my hand, wreck my plans

**Author's Note:**

> This fic deals seriously with OCD--it's not named as such in the fic because konoha is still in infancy stages of getting anything like that set up after the fourth shinobi war (and this is set a few years after the fourth shinobi war). but Lee has OCD, it significantly impacts him and his day to day.
> 
> This is based heavily on my own experiences with OCD, most of the things I've written are things I've done (or, you know, non-ninja equivalents).
> 
> Some of the ocd issues the fic touches on include: contamination, intrusive thoughts, rituals, checking, self loathing, reassurance seeking. If there's something you're concerned about and would like a warning, please leave a comment or you can find me on tumblr at the same url to ask.
> 
> and take an [emergency kitten](https://www.emergencykitten.com/) for the road!  
> 

The bowl of curry looks perfect and smells amazing, and Gaara has brought it back specifically for him. 

“Lee, what’s wrong?” Gaara asks from across the table, brow furrowing. “You’ve always said how much you like curry.”

Lee tries to force himself to take a bite but can’t even bring the curry halfway to his mouth. He can’t eat any of the meal without asking questions he doesn’t want to pose to Gaara in this amorphous phase of their relationship.

He trusts Gaara, but—Gaara hasn’t said how the food was stored overnight, or how it was reheated, or who prepared it. All Lee can see are the variables of doubt growing on the surface, the schema teeming with sporules of promise: a night spent nursing a stomachache and a voice lingering for weeks whispering contagion. 

His stomach lurches—whether in guilt or nausea he can’t parse apart.

“I must not be feeling well!” Lee exclaims, pushing back his chair. “And I don’t want to get you sick, so I’ll be going!”

He doesn’t make eye contact with Gaara, and he leaves the plate on the table. 

The ANBU guards on duty are too professional to betray any emotion, but that doesn’t stop Lee from feeling their judgment boring into his back.

*

“If I were only _better_ ,” Lee mutters, starting another round of kicks. He’s on extra repetitions now, because the anxious energy that’s creeping up his spine won’t go away.

He’s been a fool in front of Gaara, who he loves, and who he thinks might feel the same way—but even if Gaara does…

Lee is always too much for everyone: too intense, too dedicated, too weird.

Hiding his largest flaws, the ones that cause people to bolt, comes easier to him after years of practice. Lee’s skill set extends to repackaging himself into a more palatable person. 

Maybe he’s spending too much time with Gaara?

It might be for the best that Lee didn’t have the mental fortitude to resist his flight response last night. Gaara has a reason to be baffled by him, something that can’t be explained away easily. Not if this type of scene happens again.

The post splinters under the force of his foot.

*

Of course, Lee is still on assignment in Suna. Even though he does his best to stay away from Gaara, there isn’t a way to get out of their work-related meetings.

And if the Kazekage decides to dismiss everyone else who was supposed to attend said meeting, there isn’t a way for Lee to bolt, not without potentially causing an inter-village incident.

Or worse, without hurting Gaara.

Gaara’s fingers twist around a pen, worrying the nib.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Gaara says.

“I haven’t—”

“Lee,” Gaara says, the pen clattering onto the desk. “Please don’t lie to me.” He looks exhausted, the ever-present dark rings worse than usual.

“I ran out on our dinner,” Lee says, staring at a crack in the far corner of Gaara’s wooden desk. “I thought I would make it easier for you!” This is what’s best for Gaara, after all. 

“You thought hiding from me after walking out during dinner would make things easier,” Gaara parrots.

“I am sorry,” Lee says, “but I can’t explain.” The guilt roils in his stomach, and he wants to tell Gaara, but there’s nothing that makes sense.

Gaara opens his mouth but hesitates. “Was it...something that I did to upset you?”

“No!” Lee says. “I swear on my youth.”

The shy, slight smile that Lee so cherishes appears on Gaara’s face. Maybe Lee hasn’t destroyed the thing between them yet.

*

Gaara comes to Lee’s temporary rental apartment (which is somehow nicer than Lee’s own apartment in Konoha). This time, they are to watch a movie, something which Lee hopes will avoid a repeat of the dinner fiasco. 

He is too nervous to focus on the movie, so he bites the inside of his cheek and tries not to be too aware of Gaara. When his toes begin to wiggle, it all snaps together. One cheek bite, one toe wiggle, and one hand flexing. 

It’s a comfortable rhythm.

Until Gaara puts his hand on top of the hand he’s using.

Lee doesn’t move, and Gaara twines their fingers together, the dusting of pink on Gaara’s cheeks growing.

He’s thought about this so many times—Gaara touching him, delicate and treasured—the subject of more than one blissfully mundane daydream. Now that Lee has Gaara, maybe even to keep, he’s consumed by thoughts of pushing Gaara’s hand off so he can resume the pattern.

The movie drones on, and Lees tries to relax into it and continue the half-pattern, but it isn’t the same. The undone part taunts him and his hand itches.

Standing up might break the cycle. 

Lee shifts on the couch and stretches his back.

“I need a glass of water. Would you like anything?”

He slowly extricates himself from Gaara and the couch. 

Gaara’s reply seems more subdued than usual but Lee tells himself it's a coincidence. Surely Gaara can’t be bothered by Lee getting up because it’s a normal thing people do. Everyone drinks water and Gaara doesn’t have to know why Lee got up when he did. It has to be a mishap of timing, maybe brought on by the tenor of the movie, because Gaara can’t believe Lee doesn’t want to be close to him.

Lee takes a deep breath standing in front of the kitchen sink. He fills a glass with water, unsteady hands trembling.

He drinks half the glass, letting his brain calm enough for Lee to feel comfortable returning to the couch sized chasm between himself and Gaara.

He slides his hand into Gaara’s own after a moment, apology and want and fear building into that one gesture.

*

Gaara gasps as Lee presses his lips along the column of his neck. It’s hard for them to schedule time off, let alone together, but their interactions have been building in a way that seems inevitable even to Lee’s cautious mind.

They have limited things to a few late-night makeout sessions, when they could snatch the time, and nothing felt as good as this, nothing like Gaara’s breath switching between soft moans and breathy gasps. He hadn’t imagined the crispness of pleasure so intensified, hadn’t conceived he could manage it at all.

He wants to take Gaara apart with pleasure and put him back together with the same. 

Gaara pushes at him, and Lee is slow to move, heavy with arousal singeing his nerves.

“Is this okay?” Gaara asks as his hand traces underneath Lee’s shirt.

“Yes,” Lee breathes, and scrambles to take it off. 

The pricklings of doubt—that he isn’t good enough for Gaara—start to manifest, but he refocuses on Gaara, enjoying the flush of Gaara’s skin when Lee tugs his top over and off.

“Wow,” Lee says. Gaara had mentioned spending more time on his taijutsu, but Lee clearly hadn’t anticipated what that meant.

Gaara is toned, muscles evident even in this relaxed pose.

Lee can’t believe Gaara wants him.

But the kiss Gaara drags him into is insistent, their bodies sliding together. The sensation of Gaara nibbling on Lee’s bottom lip as they grind makes Lee feel like he’s opening the eighth gate.

“Let me take care of you,” Lee begs, uncertain of the range of what he’s promising. 

“You have all of me,” Gaara says. “All that you want is yours.”

It’s easy to keep kissing Gaara, to keep exploring Gaara’s body like it’s his own. 

Brushing his fingers over Gaara’s nipples causes Gaara to twist toward him and the slide of Gaara’s hand across his back makes Lee desperate to do something before everything splinters.

He wants to put his mouth on the rest of Gaara’s skin, but when he tries to stop kissing Gaara, he pulls Lee back in.

Not that he minds, with Gaara’s thighs falling open as his hand travels to Gaara’s boxer briefs.

This might be too much.

He really has nothing to compare it to, but the heat of Gaara’s cock through his underwear has Lee on edge.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” Lee says, letting his fingers toy with the waistband.

“I’ll tell you,” Gaara says, body taut.

Lee pushes his hand below the elastic, fingers brushing red hair, until Gaara’s dick is under his hand. Gaara is trying not to move; Lee can feel it in the tension of his body. There’s a bit of precome, but they’ll need something else if Lee is going to touch Gaara the way he wants.

Gaara shifts, and Lee tries not to panic, relaxing when he realizes that Gaara has anticipated him and hands him a bottle of lube with a soft smile.

When he takes the bottle, Gaara rolls down his underwear, pushing them off his legs and leaving them somewhere within the covers.

“You too?” Gaara asks.

Lee swallows against the lump of nerves; what if Gaara realizes that all of this is a mistake? That Lee isn’t what he truly desires. That having Lee in his bed is a different thing than the idea of Lee that Gaara must carry around. He steels himself, pushing past the thoughts, and gets rid of his own underwear, fast so that he can’t get stuck in his head.

He shouldn’t have worried: Gaara’s hand goes right for him and Lee moans.

It feels too good, and Lee doesn't deserve the gift of this pointed indulgence, because Lee doesn't warrant good things. Especially when what he takes here is being pulled from Gaara, who has already given so much.

But even when he’s by himself and letting his mind roam, it isn’t quite like this. His fantasies could never create the warmth of Gaara touching him, seeking Lee out.

Lee fumbles with the bottle of lube, opening it and spilling far too much into his hand. Gaara dips his fingers through the excess like that was the plan for the lube all along, and wraps his hand around Lee’s dick.

His body sizzles with Gaara’s touch. He moves to mirror Gaara’s motions, encouraged by the kiss to his neck that he’s actually doing this right.

It’s all happening too soon. He doesn’t know how long Gaara has been touching him, but it’s harder to stay still between their slow kisses. 

“Lee,” Gaara pants, “just a bit more.”

He twists his wrist, and Gaara makes a noise Lee wants to hear everyday. A sound that makes a gasp fall from Lee’s mouth as he thrusts against Gaara’s slackened grip. The sticky heat on his hand is strange, but not unwelcome.

He moves his hand away when Gaara asks and stares at his come-covered hand hovering above the sheets.

Lee’s still hard, waiting for Gaara to catch his breath, but the sensation on his hands is making his skin prickle. He leans and runs his hand along the floor, grabbing the first cloth item he can to wipe his hand off.

An improvement.

“Can I blow you?” Gaara asks, and Lee chokes.

“You don’t have to,” he says, already imagining Gaara looking up at him from between his legs.

“I know that, Lee,” Gaara replies, brushing aside Lee’s bangs to kiss his forehead. “But I really want to taste you.”

“Okay,” Lee says, then repeats himself.

He tries not to squirm as Gaara kisses his chest, humming over particularly gnarled scars. 

“You’re beautiful,” Gaara tells him, and Lee tries to believe it.

Gaara approaches a blowjob methodically, placing tentative licks to the head of Lee’s cock that have Lee grasping the sheets. He thinks he hears fabric ripping in his hands.

Lee doesn’t have words to name the sensations of Gaara taking him into his mouth; there is only deep, terrible pleasure curling up his spine. A glimpse of Gaara between his legs is too much, and Lee slams his eyes shut.

The brushes of uncertainty in Gaara’s movement cause his heart to twist. Gaara is doing this for Lee, this new thing, which threatens to excoriate Lee from the inside out.

Lee isn’t worthy of such a gift.

Gaara’s cheeks hollow and the suction around Lee’s cock intensifies and he’s going to come. He tries to tell Gaara but words are beyond him, out of grasp.

He settles a hand in Gaara’s hair and tugs, intending to warn him, but Gaara moans at the contact.

Lee comes in Gaara’s mouth, Gaara unrelenting even as Lee comes so intensely he thinks he may pass out. 

Slowly, Gaara pulls off and wipes his face with a corner of the top sheet. 

He doesn’t deserve this, Lee thinks. The magnitude is too much, even as Gaara's touch along his side continues to make tremors of pleasure jolt through his system.

Gaara kisses him softly, a smile evident by the shape of his mouth. Their bodies are sticky and tacky with sweat, like a day of training, like an early morning run.

Lee wants to lock into this moment with Gaara, the contentment seeping through their skin.

...Should they have used condoms for this? Lee hasn’t been with anyone, and he doesn’t think Gaara has, but what if Lee has something and didn’t know it?

What if Lee has contaminated Gaara with his existence—as if his neuroses aren’t enough to do that already—and now he’s made it worse by touching Gaara physically?

If they shower immediately, will it be okay? Should Lee shower with him or will that make it worse?

What if Gaara won’t be able to do ninjutsu anymore because of Lee, because Lee can’t do ninjutsu and they’ve kissed and touched—

If Lee has contaminated Gaara, then it’s definitely possible, right?

“I love you,” Gaara says.

It isn’t right for Lee to accept Gaara’s love, knowing that his own existence is toxic.

“I love you too,” Lee says. 

If he can stay next to Gaara through the night without getting up, then Gaara will keep loving him. 

Lee can’t get up before Gaara does, or it will all fall apart. 

*

He swallows down the notion that the two of them will crumble.

It’s nice, spending nights with Gaara and waking up beside him. Gaara sweeps the hair off his face and kisses his forehead. 

Gaara’s voice is gravelly and low in the mornings and Lee soaks in the sound. He listens for the hitches in Gaara’s breath when the clothes they replaced come off again.

Sleepy morning kisses shifting into Gaara pressing Lee into the bed, his mouth searing the spots he touches.

Lee imagines what he can control, not what sinks under his skin if he isn’t in motion.

*

“Did I lock the door?” Lee asks, the book he’s reading turning into indistinguishable scribbles.

“To my quarters? The guards won’t let anyone in,” Gaara says. 

“My apartment.”

“In Konoha? I’m sure you did.”

“But…” Lee closes his eyes and tries to put himself in the past. He remembers grabbing his pack and being excited to leave and he can feel the chill of the doorknob on his hand.

He doesn’t remember if he turned it to check to be certain it latched.

It could be unlocked.

Gaara takes the paperback from Lee’s hands, sliding the bookmark into place. Lee focuses on that, on the certainty of Gaara’s movements.

“Lee, don’t you have anyone checking in on your place?” 

“Tenten is supposed to stop by.”

But she doesn’t know to check the doorknob, so it may still not be right.

“I’ll just go check.”

“It’s three days between here and Konoha.” The flatness of Gaara’s tone feels more suitable for a work meeting.

Lee plasters on a smile. “Yes, but I can run faster than that!”

Gaara touches his shoulder. “No one is going to break into your apartment.”

“It really won’t take me very long,” he insists. “You’ll barely notice.”

“That’s not true,” Gaara says. “I always notice you.”

Sweat beads along his neck as he tries to think of anything but the hole in his memory. He doesn’t like the concern that’s sketched across Gaara’s face. Lee shouldn’t be doing that to him; his issues shouldn’t be causing Gaara any distress.

His knees buckle and he staggers. What would Gai have him do? Maybe go for a run as a distraction, but if he starts running he’s going to head to Konoha, and he doesn’t want Gaara to think that he’s weak.

The scratch of Gaara’s sand on his skin is a caress, as Gaara takes them back to his private quarters.

“I know I closed the door,” he says, “but maybe it didn’t lock?” Lee digs his fingers into his thighs.

“What if I send a message to Tenten by hawk?” Gaara asks. “One of Suna’s military hawks can be there by tomorrow morning.

“Will she know what to do?”

Lee draws in a breath and wishes he didn’t have to exhale. “Yes. She knows how I get.” 

“This isn’t how you get; you’re in distress. And I’d do anything to make that go away.”

Gaara tucks a weighted blanket over him and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Think of what you want to say in the message. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Lee lets his body go slack under the blanket, tears of frustration and loathing welling up. He’s been here for a few weeks, why is this bothering him now? Gaara shouldn’t have to send a message to TenTen about this; Lee should be able to forget it.

This behavior might make sense if he were a child but he’s far from childhood by civilian standards and farther by shinobi ones.

If he could do ninjutsu, he could get to Konoha faster.

And everything breaks because Lee can’t do ninjutsu, and he’s been spending so much time with Gaara. When was the last time Gaara did anything that would require chakra? The sand defense is different and he doesn’t recall Gaara using any jutsus around him.

What if Gaara has lost his ninjutsu ability and didn’t notice? Can Lee ask him without sounding absurd?

He has no idea how long Gaara has been gone.

*

“Can you explain it to me?” Gaara asks from across the table.

Tobimaru, Suna’s fastest messenger hawk, is likely halfway to Konoha at this point. Numbness and shame encompass Lee; he thinks that may be all that’s left of him after his meltdown.

Gaara didn’t read the message Lee sent to Tenten: Lee was prepared to let him but Gaara didn’t ask. 

“Which part?” 

“Any of it. The things that bother you.”

Lee inhales and tries to focus on a thought. Anything that he can share that might make sense to Gaara without contortions of mental fortitude.

“Can you still do ninjutsu?” he asks.This way he can confirm for himself, and if Gaara can’t—it can be a short conversation because Lee will have all the evidence he needs.

Gaara blinks at him. “Yes?”

“Can you show me? Please.”

The hand symbols flash by and within moments a sand clone of Gaara is standing next to Lee. It dissipates with another hand symbol.

“I was worried you could not do ninjutsu anymore!” The words that have been digging into his brain explode. It doesn’t make sense but it’s what’s been looping since Lee touched Gaara, stripped him and marked him.

“Lee, I don’t understand what you mean.” There’s no judgment or mockery, only what reads as genuine confusion on Gaara’s face.

His face goes flaming hot. “We were intimate.”

Lee stands up, anxious energy percolating under his skin. He slips into a series of stretches, anything to avoid looking at Gaara.

“What?” Gaara asks.

“It could have transferred then, via my touch,” Lee says, testing the ache of his hamstrings. “And without ninjutsu, you cannot be Kazekage, right?”

If Gaara isn’t Kazekage because of Lee, it’s the same as Lee committing an act of war against a foreign government. Deposing a ruler.

“And then I go to jail,” Lee says. “Which hopefully staves off war between Konoha and Suna!”

He hears the scrape of Gaara’s chair on the floor. Maybe Gaara doesn’t even have anything to say to Lee.

“Can I hug you?” Gaara asks, standing in front of Lee. 

He chews on his lip, weighing the consequences. A hug seems low risk compared to their other activities. He nods at Gaara, making eye contact, and takes a step forward.

For brief flashes of time when Gaara touches him, everything in his head goes blissfully silent. The hug Gaara wraps him in makes the buzzing in his brain stop. It’s temporary but he takes the reprieve.

“You’ve been carrying that this whole time.”

“Of course,” Lee says. “What else would I do with it?” He’s a shinobi; he can’t cast aside his issues.

Gaara doesn’t say anything, only tightens his hold.

*

“Thank you for joining me.” Gaara still isn’t quite used to Tsunade, despite their years working together. “We appreciate your assistance in implementing these new mental health techniques in Suna.”

Tsunade raises an eyebrow at him. “I try to be useful in my retirement.”

“And you are,” he assures. 

The delicate nature of this situation wraps itself around Gaara’s thoughts.

“I’m worried about Lee,” Gaara says.

“His nerves? Because there are some new surgical techniques if that’s becoming an issue.”

Gaara shakes his head.

“He thought—thinks—that our relationship will cause me to be unable to use ninjutsu or genjutsu.”

She pulls a flask out from her robe and quickly unscrews it, taking a long swig. 

“And his reasoning?” Tsunade closes the flask.

He drums his fingers on the desk. “That’s what I don’t understand. He mentioned his touch as a factor, like he would be…” Gaara searches for a word to describe a feeling that he scarcely comprehends. “Contaminating me. Like he’s giving me a cold.

“Does this—have you encountered this before?”

He takes a sip of his water, vaguely envious of the tang of alcohol emanating from Tsunade’s flask.

“Have there been other incidents like this?”

Gaara sorts through his memories, trying to tag between Lee’s genuine quirks versus those with a darker undercurrent. Lee bolting up to make sure the door is locked could be attributed to a shinobi’s training, but he’s seen Lee pause in the hallway and turn back.

He suspects the closet full of identical jumpsuits are a convenient way of avoiding decision making about outfits. 

Lee’s training regimens that always, always, as long as Gaara has known Lee, come with rules and conditions. The promises to halve his time around the village or he’ll do one hundred push-ups. And if he fails at the push-ups, then it’s something else.

The bandage wraps that Lee uses and then scalds his hands washing after removal. 

The reassurances Lee asks for and Gaara gives without question, even if Lee asks multiple times a day.

“Am I a fool?” he asks. Discomfort twists through him as he recontextualizes.

“So there are other areas of concern, then.“ She pulls out another flask and passes it to Gaara. “People are skilled at hiding things or prettying them up as eccentricities.”

The alcohol is harsh in his mouth.

“I want to help him,” Gaara says. “Tell me what to do.

“He’s torturing himself.”

Tsunade shakes her head and sighs. “You younger generations think every problem can be solved in an instant.”

“I’m here for Lee as long as he wants me,” Gaara says. “I wouldn’t be talking to you about this otherwise.”

*

He’s the Kazekage. He helped save the world. He survived an abusive childhood and clawed his way from the precipice of self destruction.

Helping Lee shouldn’t feel like it’s on a comparable level.

In the days since he spoke with Tsunade, Gaara has turned his observational skills into overdrive. 

Lee looks peaceful now, running through katas in Gaara’s front room. He hates to say anything to steal a moment of that quietude.

“We need to talk.” He affects his diplomacy voice, thinking it may be more calming.

Lee does something Gaara has never seen outside of a battle before: he wavers in his movements and falls to the ground.

He steps forward, wanting to grab Lee, but Lee’s whole demeanor has shifted.

“Right,” Lee says, standing up gingerly. “I can head back to Konoha tonight; I’ll make sure the Rokudaime removes me from any Suna-eligible duty rosters.”

“What—do you think this is a break up?”

“Is it not?” Lee asks, avoiding Gaara’s eyes.

“No,” Gaara says, bewildered. “Unless that’s what you want but that’s not what I have to say.

“Can we get in bed? I want to hold you.”

If they’re laying down, Lee won’t have to make eye contact if it’s too difficult and Gaara can keep him close. 

He grabs Lee’s hand upon receipt of a quick nod and laces their fingers together. The tightness in his own chest eases tangentially and loosens even more once they’re in Gaara’s bed.

“I’m worried about you,” Gaara says. He curls up closer when he hears and feels Lee’s shuddering breath.

“I am fine,” Lee says, taking one of Gaara’s hands and bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. Lee doesn’t let go of Gaara’s hand, only moves their joined hands to a resting position.

“You’re not,” Gaara replies. “Have you always had these thoughts? Like the one that made you write Tenten.”

Hopefully that’s a small enough starting point. He doesn’t want to pull at too many threads and leave Lee anxious and unravelling. 

Gaara expects Lee’s tensing but it’s still painful.

“Not forever,” Lee says. “But long enough to know I shouldn’t have them.”

“I talked to Tsunade about this. There are treatments you could try.”

Lee scoffs and extricates himself from Gaara’s grasp. “I need more discipline, that’s all. I can go run fifty laps right now to prove it!”

He used to find Lee’s grandiose promises charming, before the veneer faded. Gaara sits up, shadowing Lee’s movements.

“That’s exactly the type of thought I’m talking about: you make rules you can’t follow and punish yourself for breaking them.”

“I made jounin, Gaara. No one ever imagined I could.”

“Lee. I never doubted you would.”

He grabs Lee’s hand and moves to face him. Lee’s eyes are red rimmed and Gaara places his other hand on Lee’s cheek.

“You were the first person who ever reached me. You’re so strong, but you don’t need to carry these things. Not anymore.”

“I want to believe you,” Lee says, raising his gaze to Gaara’s face. 

“We’ll do it together,” Gaara promises. “I’m yours to keep, even when your head says otherwise.”

**Author's Note:**

> another [emergency kitten](https://www.emergencykitten.com/) if you need it!
> 
> the title is from willow by taylor swift which has nothing to do with this fic but this bit fit.
> 
> Ty 42 for reading an early draft of this and giving me good feedback and encouraging me to keep writing. Ty a_gay_poster for beta reading and characterization feedback and making this fic better than it would've been. Ty callaina for your support and beta reading, your insight was invaluable and encouraged me to keep with it. 
> 
> Ty to everyone else who told me just to finish the damn thing and listened to me kvetch about this. 
> 
> If you read this and think 'oh I want to read *another* naruto fic that deals with OCD, please check out callaina's fic [flames to burn out](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28371417)(explicit kakairu).
> 
> if you want to learn more about ocd, you can do so here: https://iocdf.org/about-ocd/
> 
> i might come back to this universe later but it'll be as part of a series, not a chapter update.
> 
> you can find me on jessicamiriamdrew on tumblr, be safe, be well!


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